


Hydrocodone

by The_Anglophile



Series: All Manson fic by The_Anglophile [1]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: BUCKETS OF ANGST, M/M, Mechanical Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Anglophile/pseuds/The_Anglophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeordie starts thinking too much one lonely evening in 2007.  He can't get that face out of his mind.  The drugs are making it too easy to remember how it felt when he was someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hydrocodone

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Marilyn Manson or any of its members, and all real names are used in a strictly fictional context.
> 
> A/N: Warnings are at the end of the fic.  
> This was written during that ugly period when Twiggy was not in the band, so it used to be much sadder. ;-)

  
**Hydrocodone**  
by DopeHat  


 

The phone rang but Jeordie couldn't be bothered to get it. He was far too comfortable where he was, squished into the couch cushions. He didn't really feel able to stand anyway; he had taken some vicodin about an half hour ago and they had just begun to kick in. Around the tranquilising fog that filtered through his mind he heard the machine answer the phone for him.

"Hey Twiggy-- or are you going by your maiden name now? I can't remember-- anyway, just called to say hi and tell you that Derek's in town and he thinks we should get together soon..."

Jeordie lost track of his friend's voice at this point when the vicodin washed over his senses in a great wave, obliterating almost everything except a feeling of overwhelming relaxation. His head sank back into the cushions, his eyes closed and he started dreaming immediately.

 

 

 

"Twiggy," someone said through the darkness, "Twiggy, wake up. Are you OD'ing? What are you on?"

Fighting the effects of the pills, he slowly opened his eyes and focused on the face next to him. It was Marilyn. Twiggy smiled drowsily. "I'm on vicodin. I'm fine." He closed his eyes again and turned over to go back to sleep, sighing contentedly. He was absolutely pain-free and he loved it. Manson wouldn't let him be, though.

"Are you sure that's it?" he asked, putting a hand on Twiggy's shoulder. "There's a lot of shit on that table... Come on, wake up!" He shook Twiggy roughly.

Twiggy groaned in protest. "I'm fine!" he insisted, unable to put much emphasis in his voice due to the drugs. "I haven't had anything else in hours. Not since the girls left," he mumbled, succumbing to the beautiful numb sensation coursing through him. His nose and lips were tingling pleasantly.

Manson relaxed at this explanation, though he demanded to know where the vicodin was. Twiggy pointed lazily to the pill bottle on the nightstand. Marilyn crawled over Twiggy to get to the pills, carelessly kneeing him in the stomach. Twiggy didn't really care, though. He just lay back against the pillows watching with mild interest as Marilyn brushed his greasy red hair out of his face and swallowed three pills in one gulp. This accomplished, he slumped down on his stomach next to Twiggy, resting his head on his arms. Just as Twiggy was drifting back to sleep, Manson's voice awoke him again. "How was your night?"

Twiggy considered this for a moment. "Not bad," he finally answered. "I managed to get a blowjob even though we were all completely fucked up. It took about an hour to get the girls to understand. They were really far gone..." He giggled slightly.

Manson smirked. "Did you see Pogo? I don't know what happened to him."

"No." Twiggy shook his head, making himself dizzy. "I can't remember anything else."

"He's probably passed out in a closet somewhere. I'll make John look for him."

Silence descended on the two. Twiggy wondered when Manson's pills would kick in; then maybe they could both go to sleep. He didn't want to talk any more.

They lay silently together for quite a while, Twiggy drifting in and out of consciousness, and Marilyn apparently lost in his thoughts. The room was very quiet. Cars could be heard many stories below in the hotel parking lot and the occasional voice drifted in from the hallway, but other than that all was still. The first set of sheer curtains were drawn across the windows, but the second, heavier set were partially open, flooding the room with the pale light of dawn. Twiggy vaguely wished they were shut completely - he loved the absolute darkness that hotels could provide, even in the middle of the day. Eyelids were simply not adequate in comparison.

He was startled completely awake by a sudden weight on his body, and opened his eyes to find Manson lying partially on top of him, calmly examining his face and hair. He stared back wordlessly. After a few moments, Marilyn sat up and started to peel off his crimson turtleneck.

"What are you doing?" Twiggy said, more to indicate his non-willingness to participate than because he actually wondered.

"Nothing," Marilyn answered, tossing the shirt on the floor. He then settled back down on Twiggy, who felt too lethargic to move.

"I don't want to fuck you," Twiggy said, staring at Marilyn pointedly.

Marilyn ignored this. He brushed a strand of black hair out of Twiggy's face and leaned in to kiss him. Twiggy turned his face away, but Marilyn grabbed him by the chin and held him. For being so insistent, the kiss was surprisingly gentle. Marilyn's lips were still soft from his and others' lipstick, and he pressed them lightly to Twiggy's for a moment before pulling back slowly. He gave Twiggy the funny look that he sometimes did - sort of lustful, sort of admiring, sort of bemused.

"Didn't you get any last night?" Twiggy asked.

"Yes."

"Why don't you go hump John? He won't mind."

Manson ignored him again and moved in for another kiss. Twiggy didn't resist this time. What Marilyn was doing didn't really bother him that much; he was just surprised because it hadn't happened in a while. He was also very sleepy from the painkillers.

The second kiss was open-mouthed and hungry, and Twiggy felt Marilyn nipping softly at his lips as he kissed him. Twiggy had to admit it felt good. He wrapped his arms around Marilyn's bare waist and slid a hand down to touch the slick red leather of his pants. He ran his hand over the leather-covered curve of Marilyn's ass and squeezed briefly before scraping his short nails up the other’s back to entwine in the shaggy red hair.

The two kissed languidly for several minutes, Marilyn tasting Twiggy’s lips as though they were too cold or too hot to be touched for more than a moment at a time. To Twiggy this was a welcome change from Manson’s usual ‘Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am’ style, and he relaxed into it accordingly. His head was not clear. “My lips are numb,” he murmured between kisses.

Marilyn paused momentarily, considering this. He then placed his lips on Twiggy’s neck and began kissing there instead. Twiggy raised his chin as the warm mouth ventured over his throat and latched tightly to one of the large tendons in his neck, biting and pulling just enough to cause him discomfort as well as pleasure. He sighed into Marilyn’s hair.

After he’d likely inflicted some bruises, Marilyn released Twiggy’s neck and pushed himself up partway. Twiggy felt fingers wandering down his hip and soon Marilyn had his hand under Twiggy’s dress. Twiggy’s hose and panties and had been flung across the room earlier that night, and Manson began softly stroking his bare cock, watching his face as he did so. Twiggy smiled slightly at the sensation, looking Marilyn in the eyes. He was too doped to get fully hard, but his body definitely responded to the persuasive touch. Marilyn altered his technique accordingly, pausing to spit in his hand and then grasping Twiggy’s cock firmly, and slowly milking it from base to tip with thumb and forefinger. He then leaned forward and began to kiss Twiggy again, hand still at work.

Twiggy was very pleasantly surprised by all this, having expected Manson to be trying to fuck him by this point. He relaxed under the gentle touch, allowing Marilyn to push a hot tongue past his lips and explore his mouth. Just as Twiggy was beginning to get harder beneath the rhythmic strokes, Marilyn moaned into his mouth and suddenly stopped what he was doing. He slumped against Twiggy for a moment, crushing him into the bed, before lifting his weight briefly and flopping down beside his companion, caresses finished.

“It hit me,” he explained. Twiggy understood. The vicodin had finally kicked in.

“Let’s sleep now,” Marilyn slurred, his eyes falling shut. Twiggy nodded and started to roll over to get more comfortable, but Marilyn grabbed his arm and Twiggy turned back to meet his eyes.

“Not to sound mushy, but you’re still my best friend, you know...”

As Twiggy tried to think of an appropriate response to this altogether unexpected statement, he noticed that Marilyn had fallen asleep. Painkillers always worked quickly on him. Twiggy stared thoughtfully at the sleeping form beside him for a few minutes. He then lay down directly next to Marilyn, facing him, and whispered, “I miss you too.” The perpetually painted face in front of him remained still.

Twiggy fell asleep.

 

 

 

Jeordie awoke with the words ‘I miss you too’ on his lips. He began to cry silently. He wished that he hadn’t taken any vicodin that evening.

 

 

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Dub-con, drug use


End file.
